Johnny and June
by Bards of Bedlam
Summary: Timmy is very specific about what kind of love he wants. It never occurred to him that Donald might want the same thing… Slash. Timmy/Donald. A “Donald Strachey Mysteries” fic.


Okay, this is just another short, fluffy piece that has almost no point but made me happy inside while I was writing it. So enjoy!

**Title: **Johnny and June

**Fandom: **Donald Strachey Mysteries

**Genre: **Romance

**Pairing: **Donald/Timmy

**Rating: **G

**Summary: **Timmy is very specific about the kind of love he wants. It never occurred to him that Donald might want the same thing...

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own Timmy, Donald, or the **_**Donald Strachey Mysteries**_** series.**

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_**Johnny and June**_

Donald Strachey had been tamed.

There was no point in denying it anymore; after six months of complete, unwavering fidelity—during which he hadn't had a single, sincere thought of straying—he finally had to admit that maybe he was ever-so-slightly whipped.

Maybe.

Just a little.

Take this moment for example. It seven thirty on a Saturday night in New York City, and not so long ago, that would mean that Donald was out having a night on the town, living it up at local clubs and drinking himself into worthlessness, having what he used to consider the time of his life. But things were changing, and instead of being out partying, he was standing in the toy section of a local department store with his Timmy and pretending to be interested in the selection as he watched his boyfriend out of the corner of his eye.

_He's so adorable when he can't decide_...

Translation: _He's so adorable. End of sentence._

"I don't know... This is cute, don't you think?" Timmy held up a little, lavender-colored teddy bear with "Happy Birthday" sewn on its stomach.

Donald chuckled. "It's a little...young, don't you think? For an eleven-year-old?"

Timmy frowned, and Donald bit back on another laugh; the man just looked so cute, pouting and clutching the bear to his chest.

"But...it's so cute..."

_It's not the only one._

"Yes, it is, but for someone a little younger. So...put it back, and let's find an associate and ask what they think. I'm no good at this sort of thing."

Timmy sighed, and regretfully set the bear back on the shelf, then followed Donald down the aisle.

Timmy chewed his lower lip as he tried to make a decision. This was a gift for his colleague's child, after all—he wanted to make the right choice.

But damn, it was hard to concentrate on anything with Donald standing so close, giving him the look—_that_ look...

_He's probably trying to decide if this is a good place to jump me or not._

Timmy frowned at the little bear, then set it regretfully back on the shelf, following Donald without really seeing where he was going as he got lost in his own mind.

He couldn't decide whether he should be thrilled or angry right now. Lately, it was a common conundrum. On the one hand, he was thrilled that Donald was willing (and maybe even happy) to spend times like this with him, even when they were doing mundane things like picking out birthday gifts for little girls that Donald didn't even know. But then, he wondered if Donald really _wanted_ to be here, or if it was just another way of impressing/pleasing Timmy and thereby ensuring that the night ended with sex.

And Timmy wanted more than that.

He was in love, no matter how hard he tried to logic himself out of it. He was in the kind of love that people wrote songs about, the kind that grabbed him and swept him away—the whirlwind kind. He was falling into a very dangerous ring of fire.

And it terrified him.

Timmy didn't want to be terrified. He wanted to feel _safe_ in love. It wasn't something he'd quite managed to experience yet, and for a little while, he'd thought…

_You thought Donald might give you that._

It should be working in reverse. Timmy should have stopped being afraid by now, but every day, the apprehension grew just a little bit more. Sooner or later—probably sooner—Donald was going to get bored and move on to another, more interesting conquest.

Timmy didn't know if he could take that, but he knew he couldn't end it, either.

It was too late. He had already crossed the very thin line that he'd been walking since he'd met Donald.

He had fallen, and fallen _hard_.

XXX

Timmy frowned down at his shoes, sticking his hands in his pocket as he and Donald left the movie theater. It had been a very good movie, with the girl and boy fighting and making up and having mistake sex and fighting again, then realizing they were perfect together and (one assumed) living happily ever after.

It had been very depressing.

Then a hand slipped into his and gave it a light squeeze, and he quickly looked up and forced a small smile. "Wanna go for coffee? It's still early."

Donald waved this aside. "Are you okay? You look sorta…sad."

Timmy's smile widened, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm fine."

Donald didn't seem to believe him, but he nodded nevertheless and followed Timmy down the street, deciding he would wait until they got to the café to bring it up again.

XXX

"Okay, Tim, I get caffeine addictions—I really do—but even _I've_ never tried to mind-meld with a cup of coffee, not even on my worst day. What's wrong with you?"

Timmy looked up from his mug. "Huh?"

Donald sighed. "You've been so quiet tonight. You seem…preoccupied. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine."

Donald snorted. "I can always tell when you're lying, Timmy. You do a thing with your face."

"I do?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"So spill it."

Timmy didn't say anything for awhile, going back to memorizing every contour of the cup and the cherry Danish in front of him. When he looked up again, Donald was still staring, so he sighed heavily and looked down again as he asked, "Where is this going, Donald?"

Donald blinked. "What?"

"Where. Is. This. Going?"

"What're you talking about?"

Timmy sighed again. "Okay, here's the thing. I…" He trailed off, swallowed, and forced himself to look up. "I'm falling in love with you."

_Oh, smooth, Timothy. Really smooth. Because __that__ won't freak him out or anything. Good job._

"I tried not to, I really did, because…I knew that no matter what, you would always be you and I would always be me and we could never work. So I tried not to, but…I can't stop."

Donald's face was carefully blank as he sat frozen in his chair.

"And…that's why I can't do this anymore."

_That_ put emotion on Donald's face; Timmy would have found the stunned/angry/terrified expressions that flashed across it to be rather amusing under any other circumstances.

Timmy swallowed again. "I'm…sorry," he whispered, before abandoning his coffee and leaving the shop before he started to cry—which he did, the minute he was out the door.

XXX

Donald wondered if it was possible for air to actually fracture.

Because he swore he could feel the world break around him as he watched Timmy walk out the door.

His movements mechanic, he reached into his pocket, dropped some money on the table, and walked out into the night. He had vague thoughts of trying to catch Timmy, but there was really no point.

And what would he say if he _did_ catch him? "I love you, too"? Did he even know _how _to say those words? Could he even remember what they meant?

_Yes, you can_.

It was the fluttery feeling that came into his chest whenever Timmy smiled at him. It was the way their squabbles always ended with a kiss. It was the way Donald felt the bottom drop out of his stomach whenever he caught his first Timmy sighting of the day. It was the way he felt like he was walking to the edge, but never actually falling off the side, because Timmy was always there to catch him. It was the way he lay awake at night, reliving all the moments they'd shared that day and looking forward to making more memories tomorrow. It was the absolute, steadfast faith that there _would_ be a tomorrow, and a reason to wake up for it.

Donald Strachey had fallen in love, and he hadn't even noticed.

_Oh, great. Really great. Top notch detective work there, Strachey._

And, looking back, he was already starting to forget a time when he _hadn't_ been in love with Timothy Callahan. When he hadn't been spending every waking hour looking forward to the moments when Timmy would smile at him. When he hadn't gotten a little thrill every time Timmy took his hand, or teased him, or wrapped an arm around his waist when they walked down the street.

Something had been missing, and now that missing piece had fallen into place, and it had just felt so natural and so _right_ that he hadn't even noticed that he wasn't dead inside anymore.

_Love is when someone can make you feel alive just by looking at you._

He was alive again, and the person who had brought him back from the grave had just walked out of his life, possibly forever.

And Donald would be damned if he was going to let that happen.

XXX

**-Flashback-**

"**I wanna play a game."**

**Timmy laughed. "What kind of game?"**

"**A getting-to-know you game. Like…twenty questions, or something."**

"…**You can have **_**one**_**."**

"**That's all I get? **_**One**_** question?"**

"**Take it or leave it."**

**Donald chuckled. "Fine, I'll take it. But it's gonna have to be a really good one… Let me think…"**

**And he did. He thought about what he would most like to know. He thought about the one question that would bring out the real Timmy—his passions, his values, what he wanted more than anything. But he could just **_**ask**_**, "What do you want more than anything?" That would be silly, and it would take all the fun out of inferring and drawing conclusions and doing the detective work he loved so much.**

"**Okay. If you were to write your own love story—about yourself and your ideal partner, I mean—what would it be like?"**

**Timmy grinned. "Huh. I don't think I've ever been asked that question. I don't think I've ever **_**heard**_** that question. Like, ever."**

**Donald laughed. "I'm nothing if not creative."**

"**True, very true. Okay, let's see…a love story… Well, first, we would meet in a totally mundane way, like running into each other in someplace we both go every day. We would have spent **_**ages**_** just walking past each other without seeing each other, and it would be the kind of thing where the audience was **_**screaming**_** at us to just **_**look**_** at each other. But we would keep missing each other and keep missing each other, until that one magical day when he came up to me and started talking."**

**Timmy had a look in his eyes—an "I'm remembering" sort of look.**

"**And then we would have a whirlwind romance. And he would be a little dangerous, and little wild…a bad person to fall in love with, but I would do it anyway because I'm just stupid enough to always want what I can't have."**

**Now he looked sad, but only slightly; he looked more happy than anything else. Hopeful.**

"**And we would date, and all the time I would just **_**know**_** that it can't go further, it can't go further, it can't last, it won't end happy. But I would keep being with him because I wouldn't be able to help it."**

_**Now**_** he definitely looked hopeful.**

"**And…then he would change, slowly. Settle down, and realize that we both want the same things. And he would tell me he loved me one night, and it would be in a really creative and romantic way. Like, with dinner and flowers and a white horse. I mean, I don't know what the horse would be doing there, unless he was riding it—which seems a bit over-the-top—but, y'know, I don't think these things through."**

**Donald chuckled.**

"**And I would know, deep down, that he changed because he **_**loved**_** me. Really, truly, deeply **_**loved**_** me. And…I would know he wasn't leaving. I would know that we would be together forever, just like you know that happily ever after in a movie really **_**is**_** happily ever after, because there's just no way it can be anything else."**

**-End Flashback-**

XXX

Timmy's heart felt heavy as he walked into work; he _really_ didn't feel like being here. He hadn't felt like being _anywhere_, not since he had made the most moronic move of his life and ended a relationship with the man that he still couldn't stop thinking about.

He forgot his preoccupation, however, upon reaching his office and seeing two things on the desk that most certainly did not belong there.

Frowning, he walked over to the desk, and his heart immediately dropped to his feet as he reached out and picked up the bear that he had been so infatuated with at the department store. No, it wasn't that bear; it was a different one, and in place of the "Happy Birthday" that had been scrawled across that bear's stomach, this one said "Donald loves Timmy."

Timmy could barely see through his tears as he clutched the bear tightly and looked down at the dozen red roses that also sat on his desk. He fumbled slightly with the note that was attached to them, finally focusing long enough to read it, and smiled as he snatched up the phone.

_Dinner tonight?_

There was no signature. Timmy didn't need one.

Donald picked up the phone on the first ring, sounding slightly panicked. "I couldn't find a horse."

Timmy gave a sobbing sort of laugh. "It's okay. Donald, you didn't have to—"

"Yes I did. Because I should have told you before, and I didn't, and I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. This is…perfect, absolutely perfect. Where are you? Are you busy? Can you come over here?"

"…Actually, I was kind of hoping you'd ask that."

Timmy yelped and whirled, closing his cell phone as he did.

Donald gave him an uncharacteristically shy smile, hovering nervously in the doorway. "So, um…we on for tonight, or…?"

Timmy blinked at him, then said (as demandingly as he could while trying to fight back tears), "Get over here."

Donald cleared the room in record time, and Timmy would be surprised if he _ever_ got his breath back from the kiss they shared. He was barely cognizant enough to notice as he was pushed back to sit against the desk, and Donald's hands started to wander freely up and down his back.

"Donald, wait, wait," Timmy said breathlessly, breaking the kiss and trying half-heartedly to push the other man away. "This is my _office_, we can't—"

"…Fine." Donald reached down to grab Timmy's hand and pulled him towards the door. "Come on, then."

"Where are we going?"

"I think it's time for the making up part."

Timmy blinked. "But didn't we already—? _Oh._"

He barely managed to grab his bear and his roses before Donald pulled him out the door.

XXX

Donald grinned happily as Timmy let go of his hand, moving behind him to wrap his arms possessively around the smaller man's waist as they walked through the park. "So what're we doing tonight?"

"Umm… Wanna go to that gym with the rock climbing stuff? It closes early, but I know a guy and he can let us in, and there's this amazing thing you can do with the climbing harnesses—"

"You're disgusting."

"And you love it."

Timmy grinned and pressed a kiss to the side of Donald's head, pulling the man to a stop behind a conveniently placed tree. "I vote for a quiet night in…" he murmured, moving to nibble at his lover's ear, then moving to his neck. "With candles…" Nibble. "And wine…" Kiss. "And music…" Bite. "And…other things…" Another nibble. "Hmm? What do you think?"

"Mmm, I like that…" Donald replied, grinning happily as he turned around to pull Timmy into a kiss. Timmy's arms tightened around his waist as Donald's automatically slid up around his neck.

"So…lunch?" Timmy asked when the kiss finally ended—several minutes later, and only when a group of girls walked past them and giggled appreciatively, causing Timmy to turn an altogether adorable shade of red.

"Ooh, somewhere with coffee."

Timmy rolled his eyes. "You're such an addict."

Donald grinned. "Yup."

They were both laughing as they walked hand-in-hand down the path, the chuckles only fading when they passed a party in one of the pavilions where a couple was celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary.

"I hope that can be us one day," Timmy commented, giving Donald's hand a squeeze.

Donald smiled, leaning up to press a kiss to his lover's cheek. "It will be, Timmy."

_It will be._


End file.
